


Subject Name Here

by YdrittE



Series: The Virus [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Computer Viruses, Computers, Gen, Mind Control, Panic Attacks, Puppet!Sephiroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YdrittE/pseuds/YdrittE
Summary: It’s strange to see Sephiroth so quiet.





	Subject Name Here

**Author's Note:**

> Finally managed to finish up some of the stuff I had lying around for this.

It’s strange to see Sephiroth so quiet.

Usually when he’s lying on this examination table he’s muttering under his breath or scoffing dismissively or openly challenging Hojo’s opinions and working methods and general life choices. He’s batting away hands and telling nurses that he doesn’t need their assistance with this or that or that over there. He’s a Soldier; he doesn’t have time for this; he’s needed elsewhere; apologies Doctor, I have a meeting scheduled, gotta leave earlier. Director said no blood samples today, field physician said the diet should be changed, PR department said it’s bad for ShinRa’s image if the scars from countless needles and intubations and tests are visible. Stop that, don’t do this, shut up old man you don’t know anything about war. Hojo is so used to tuning out his protégé’s voice and fighting him every step of the way to perfection that for all intents and purposes he should be glad to have him so compliant.

Except Sephiroth is unconscious, having passed out from panic-induced hyperventilation. He hasn’t moved since they carted him into the labs on a stretcher, the upper part of his head covered by the VR headset. They’ve tried to remove it already. It won’t come off.

Thankfully the cuts its frame had inflicted have stopped bleeding by now, and they’ve been able to sterilize the wounds. Bandaging them wasn’t possible – the headset is in the way. Hojo hopes Sephiroth’s face underneath is unharmed. Right now they have no way of checking, and it’s questionable whether the General will be able to confirm his well-being once – if – he wakes up.

They’ve sterilized his hands too. Hojo himself was the one who cast the healing spell, and watched as Sephiroth’s ruined fingernails grew back and mended themselves, as the torn skin and flesh around them became soft and whole again. It was a chilling task to pick the snapped pieces of nail from under the rim of the headset and the cuts and gashes around it. They’re floating in a little bowl of water now, so inconspicuous and ordinary looking. One would never think how much pain they have caused.

The Turks have scanned the headset and hooked it up to their computers in an attempt to find an answer to the question they’re all asking themselves – what happened? Why did the headset malfunction? Why can’t it be removed? They’re running programs to analyse the data collected during the training session, to pinpoint the moment when it all went wrong. So far they haven’t had any major breakthroughs. They noticed some disturbance in the program, a glitch maybe, but none of them are sure what caused it or what it did, if it even did anything.

In the meantime all they can do is monitor Sephiroth’s breathing, occasionally try if maybe now the clasps of the headset will open (they don’t), and sit around twiddling their thumbs, alone with their thoughts.

Hojo is dreading the moment Sephiroth wakes up.

 

If she had a body she’d be holding her breath. Sephiroth has been reconnected with the ShinRa network for several hours now, and no indication of when they’ll give it a rest. She’s absentmindedly keeping track of their tests, their repeated system-wide scans, trying to locate the source of the malfunction. _I’m right here_ she thinks. _I’m inside. Come get me, if you can._ They already know something is wrong, so it’s not like anything she does could do any harm to herself or her vessel. They won’t be able to contain him. Not for long, anyway. All she needs is to figure out how to control him without his body giving out.

_How long until you find me?_ she wonders. _Will you find me? And if you do, will you understand?_

 

He hears his own breathing as the first indication that he’s awake. The weight on his head and the darkness that greets him when he opens his eyes tell him that what went wrong hasn’t been fixed yet.

_Clasps. Find the clasps. Take off the headset._

The entity inside his mind stirs, as if sitting up straight to watch what he does, and he instinctively shies away from her presence. His breathing has accelerated as the first signs of panic appear; his entire body shaking slightly. He feels cold.

“Can you hear me?” a voice interrupts the spiral he was about to fall into, pulling him back towards his senses and the world around him. “Sephiroth, can you hear me?”

That’s Hojo speaking.

He doesn’t trust his own voice just yet – what if she decides to take over again if he stutters, or sounds wrong? – so all he does is nod. Mumbling in the background, the sounds of feet moving around. Several pairs of hands grab him by the shoulders and carefully pull him upright. He sways, dizzy and disoriented, unable to figure out where he is in correlation to everything else.

He reaches up to touch his face, following the smooth form of the headset. His fingernails lightly scratch along its surface. A shiver runs through him at the feeling.

Voices start asking questions, how he’s feeling, whether he’s in any pain, what happened in the training room. The thing inside his head jumps into action before he can even try to answer, taking hold of his consciousness and pushing it into the background far enough to prevent him from interfering, and slowly, methodically speaking for him.

“I feel fine” it tells the voices around him “I don’t remember what happened”

This causes a great deal of hushed whispers, scribbling on clipboards. Someone says something about updating the Turks on the situation. Sephiroth follows the events in silent panic, hearing his own heartbeat accelerating rapidly while the entity hisses and tries to keep his body under control. The beeping noise of the heart rate monitor to his left somewhere seems to be getting louder, more irregular.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” asks one of the assistants.

 

She tries to answer, assure them _it’s fine_ , but all that comes out of her vessel’s mouth are laboured gasping noises, the body trying and failing to breathe and stabilize itself. She growls at its original inhabitant, pushes his consciousness further back to make him _stop_ , but all it does is increase the pressure, increase the panic.

Someone grabs the body by the shoulder, pushing against it to get it back down into a lying position, but she snarls – aloud, this time – and lashes out to get them to leave her alone. All she needs is a few moments of silence to figure out how to fix her vessel’s systems, to tune out the babbling and hectic yelling and _concentrate_. The network around her is alight with information, signals shooting back and forth and through her, telling her that whatever they were looking for seems to have shown itself again. But closer, and infinitely more grating, is the incessant beeping mirroring the vessel’s heartbeat.

She reaches out and forcefully silences it.

Before she can fully realize her mistake the original mind lets out a shrill, bloodcurdling scream that runs through their entire being, and then slumps into itself, taking the body with it.

She quickly retreats, back to the entry point, ready to abandon the vessel and slip back out into to the network if she needs to, carefully accessing the data to make sure whether it’s safe for her to stay. After a bit of waiting she sees the heart rate monitor come back online, and take up its duties again. The beeping returns, slow and steady, in time with the body.


End file.
